


Catharsis

by majorwanderer



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Rescue Bots
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Minor Canonical Character(s), Minor Character Death, Open to Interpretation, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-12 17:11:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7114864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majorwanderer/pseuds/majorwanderer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Closure presents itself to Quickshadow in the form of an unexpected friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stalemate

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so this story came to be when I was thinking about Quickshadow's possible backstory. From what we've seen from her so far in the show, it's made clear that she is an individual who carries herself with confidence, a certain degree of grace, and has an impressive skill set, self defense and martial arts being among said skill set. So, it would only be logical to assume that she's seen quite a fair bit of action, possibly having fought in the Great War for Cybertron. But meanwhile, Heatwave and his Team were in stasis during the entirety of that cataclysmic event. 
> 
> That's what eventually got the gears in my head turning, and voilà this fic I bring before you all, was born. 
> 
> While the way I write Quickshadow and Heatwave are mostly my own interpretations, I'll admit, I browsed through RP/Ask tumblr blogs like qu1ck5h4d0w and rollingtotherescue (Heatwave) to help me get a better feel of these two characters and make sure I wasn't straying too far off the mark. I definitely recommend these two blogs for any writer requiring a bit of a crash course on Heatwave's and/or Quickshadow's personalities.
> 
> Anyway, without further ado... on with the story!

If there was one thing Quickshadow truly appreciated about Earth, it was its skyline.

Specifically during the night hours–stars glowing brightly in the encompassing darkness of space, a spellbinding panorama stretched across the entire planet in what seemed to be a never ending canvas, consisting solely of black and blue gradients and hues.

Or at least that was how Boulder described it.

“A true spectacle, one of many wonders this planet has to offer,” he had commented earlier that evening, catching a glimpse of the femme’s optics flashing upwards as the Rescue Team prepared to turn in for the night after their latest grueling mission.

There had been an issue regarding the structural integrity of one of the old buildings outside Griffin Rock. During his early delivery rounds (“ _ungodly_ hours of the morning, more like,” Kade had so helpfully chimed), Jerry had dialed up the town’s emergency dispatch, calling about a tower he had happened on along his delivery route, practically crumbling before his eyes.

Literally; the poor man didn’t even have the opportunity to finish his call as he almost immediately found himself and his cargo caught in the barrage of fragmenting concrete and stone, trapping him within the confines of his vehicle’s cab. Luckily, the Team made it just in time to prevent the rest of the shoddy structure from totally crushing the truck driver. Although the same couldn’t be said for his deliveries.

Quickshadow soon made her arrival amidst the repair and clean up of the site, greeted by curious glances as they spotted her form peeking just over a small ridge further down the road. She screeched to a well timed halt in front of them.

“What are _you_ doing here?”

Converting into bot mode, the Ausley Benton threw a coy smile at her addresser, optics half lidded.

“Why, to see _you_ , Heatwave. As well as the rest of your little rescue unit, of course–” Her expression of feigned innocence then shifted as she calmly assessed the scene, scrutiny contorting her features.

“–the Prime thought it appropriate that I pop by for a brief inspection and report to him of your current…” She gestured vaguely at their cluttered surroundings. “–Activities; and it certainly appears that my visit couldn’t have been more aptly timed. Found yourselves in a bit of a cock up, hm? Allow me to lend a servo.”

She leant down to grab a slab of concrete that lay at her pedes, and everyone automatically took that as a sign to lower their heads back into their specific tasks.

Her digits quivered ever so slightly, the momentary lapse in her composure going by unnoticed. Except that of the fire truck’s.

His suspicious glower persisted the rest of the day.

* * *

Quickshadow had been given temporary leave from her work on Maine by none other than the Leader of the Autobots himself.

When she asked why, he’d skilfully dodged the question, labelling the answer as redundant, insisting that she take a well deserved break after having been so diligent in her duties for many consecutive solar cycles.

And in spite of her protests, he’d even taken it upon himself to kindly make transport arrangements.

“–For your return to Griffin Rock.”

She started. “Sir?”

“There your true nature no longer needs to be concealed from the public eye and so are permitted to express yourself freely to the local community,” he explained, “I thought it the most ideal location, rather than have you randomly wandering about the planet undercover. Quite the opposite of a sabbatical’s supposed nature, yes?”

“... Indeed.”

It wasn’t soon after that the Ausley Benton inadvertently discovered the individual assigned to see her off upon being greeted by the sight of the old rustbucket, waiting at the docks.

“OP mentioned you needed a lift,” High Tide barked, disgruntled and visibly none too pleased about having to play chauffeur. “Best get your land-loving self on my vessel before I go into stasis recharge standin’ here for another cycle.” Not wishing to get into a needless disagreement, she abided.

Despite his initial unpleasantness, Quickshadow soon found that the crusty serviceman actually kept rather good company, once she saw past his curt front. He held the same opinion of her, and naturally so. The both of them _were_ long-serving soldiers, high in rank, well respected amongst their comrades, and highly decorated officers in their own right.

However, unlike that of the still young femme, High Tide was truly a hardened veteran, having been exposed much more to the sheer savagery, the brunt, of the civil war that divided their kind. Not to say that _she_ hadn’t; simply that the old drill sergeant’s experience substantially overshadowed that of her’s. Something she soon came to realise, with his plethora of engrossing stories he had to tell during their trip–of how he had aided in hundreds of thousands of water rescues when the Great War had made its way across to other unsuspecting planets and neighbouring solar systems; when their home of Cybertron had been drained dry of its resources, rendering it obsolete and no longer capable of supporting life.

It was the Great Exodus.

He launched in with such vigor, recounting lost tales with vivid recollection, almost as if it had all happened but a solar cycle ago. But his zeal gradually waned as the cycles passed, his voice descending into almost nothing but a gruff murmur that was barely audible in the occasional gust of wind, carried over the throbbing whitecaps.

“Sea Spray was as fine a sailor as any, an excellent first mate. The rest of the crew, ‘specially the youngsters, all took a mighty shine to ‘im, and rightfully so. Unmatched in skill, and the size of his spark. Never had I ever met a bot so compassionate… one that I had the great fortune of calling my friend… “

“... ‘had’. Past tense. ”

“Keen auditory sensors ye got there lass.”

High Tide gave a grave nod. “Ay… it was a simple mission: Dive in, fasten underwater charges to the Decepticons’ flagship and blast ‘em sky high. I’ll spare ye the gory details, but long story short: Ole Spray didn’t make it, and… t’was all my fault. My stubborn pride got a hold of my common sense; I abandoned my post, went after a rogue ‘Con scout like the addlepated twit I was; my entire brigade nearly ended up scrapped, they might as well _have_ been if it weren’t for Sea Spray. He… he gave his spark, cleaning up my foolhardy mistake that to this very day, still makes my chassis ache. ”

Quickshadow opted to remain silent; though, not so much out of a loss for words at bearing witness to the bot’s outlining of his past quandaries, rather, she was deep in her own trove of memories. Ones she thought to have been long discarded from the remotest parts of her databanks, and sealed off in the darkest places of her mind.

She held back the urge to engulf her faceplates in her servos as she felt her helm slowly growing heavier and heavier, her view of the ocean almost teetering before her in a swirl of aqua. There was a warm, tingling sensation and it enveloped the ends of her digits, sending unwanted shivers down her back strut, remnants of a past she’d rather shut out worming their way back into the foremost part of her already failing subconscious.

“Look sharp, lassie! Griffin Rock is just up ahead.”

Thankfully, High Tide’s bark of an announcement managed to snap the femme out of her reverie. She sighed a breath of relief through her intakes. _Finally_.

All this sailing out on open water was seriously starting to mess up her systems.

* * *

The clear up of the road overshot its estimated duration, as emergencies and troubles of all kinds had the entire team scattered randomly throughout the town. With everyone spread so thin, that single task was drawn out for the rest of the day.

But after everything was all done and dusted, it was safe to say that every single one of them was completely exhausted. Even the Chief himself had trouble keeping his eyes from sliding closed. 

Clearly, it was time to hit the hay.

The Burns family trudged wearily to their respective sleeping quarters, leaving the bots to their own preparations for recharge.

Quickshadow wasn’t quite ready to turn in for the night just yet, her stabilising servos rooted stubbornly to the ground, positioning herself by the doorway of their resting area.

“Y’know, Cody and I are planning a little stargazing session next week. We’ll be mapping out constellations for his astronomy project. 

The amicable bulldozer flashed the femme a drowsy smile from where he sat, settled onto his respective berth. A satisfied sigh escaped him.

“–And if you want, you’re welcome to join us. It’d be the perfect opportunity for you to get your helm around Earth’s Astronomy. After all, nothing beats first hand experience, especially when it comes to learning new things.”

She offered him a cordial grin of her own in reply.

“I’m not sure I’ll have time for that but… I’ll definitely give it a good thinking over, Boulder.”

Turning to face him properly, her arms crossed themselves protectively over her chestplate. A cold draught slipped through the Bunker’s entrance, brushing chillingly against her metal. She suppressed a shiver. “Thank you kindly for the offer.”

With a final beam, he mumbled his brief “goodnights” to the others before finally powering himself down for some much needed stasis. Blades and Chase were quick to follow, though the latter barely had enough energy left to properly complete his own wishes of good slumber to his teammates as he passed out wearily onto his berth. Chase rested silently beside the copter bot on his own one.

Just about ready to make herself scarce, Quickshadow turned to leave.

_Finally… now, if I could just recall where–_

“‘Night.”

The female bot glanced towards her left, the gruff send-off that was muttered echoing emptily in the spaciousness of the stasis room. The source revealed itself to be none other than Heatwave, currently preoccupied with the old paperback he had in his servos. Her gaze contorted into one of bemusement.

“Are you not drained, Heatwave?”

The addressed spared a moment to glance up from his read, the words ‘Medieval War Tactics’ that were imprinted on its cover in frayed leather, now visible.  His servos shifted slightly as he readjusted his grip, one of his shoulders quirking up in a half hearted shrug.

“Not really. At least, not as much as _these_ gearheads–” the two took a brief second to glimpse amusedly at the three snoozing Autobots, “–unlike them, I’m pretty accustomed to late hours.”

Quickshadow couldn’t resist smiling at the undertone of fondness that was carried delicately in his words. “So I see.”

“Same can be easily said for you.”

The Ausley Benton’s spark jumped slightly at the biting tone he had suddenly taken.

She pretended not to notice as she tried to diverge the conversation onto a less… touchy route.

“Well, not necessarily considering I–”

“Don’t even try.”

The fire truck had already put his reading material aside and risen from his place on his berth as he curtly cut off her attempt at changing the subject.

“That what you call ‘small-talk’?”

He ignored her somewhat nonplussed expression, continuing to egg her on.

“After living with a bunch that constantly go behind your back with some hair-brained scheme in mind, you tend to pick up a thing or two.” His arms folded resolutely as he closed the distance between them. “So, care to explain where exactly you’re headed off to all bright eyed and bushy tailed? At this hour of the night?”

The female bot’s demeanour instinctively hardened at his question, a prickling amalgam of discomposure and defensiveness. She stood her ground.

“Firstly, I am _hardly_ bright eyed, nor is my proverbial appendage ‘bushy’ in the slightest, thank you very much,” she quipped, placing a firm servo on his chest plate and nudging him gently back to re-establish her personal space.

“Secondly, I am merely going to escort myself to the Bunker for some light reading of my own. I don’t think that such a task warrants any of your current attitude, does it? Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

She was prepared to move past Heatwave, but almost immediately found her exit obstructed as his large pede stamped itself in front of her own, blocking her path. He held out one of his burly arms in an unyielding barricade. 

Her optic brows knitted in aggravation as she returned the severity of his expression.

She had half a mind to take him by a surprise sweep kick.

“Alright, I know brooding when I see it. I should know better about that than anyone else on this rock so don’t bother denying it. Been told that I actually do it pretty often, whenever I think no one’s looking, not paying attention or minding me, or just whenever I start to think about–“

He choked midway through his sentence. His features softened by the minutest twitches of his faceplates, an unfamiliar sadness engulfing his optics that compelled him to retract his arm. A sickening clench deep down in his solenoids sent a cold wave of recognition coursing through his sparkplugs. 

 _Bollocks._ _He’s seen right through me._

The tense silence that hung between the duo devolved into noise, the air thick with irresolution as both parties locked optics. One pair reflected an uncanny version of the other. 

But one’s guard was down.

Quickshadow seized her opportunity to slip past his lowered defenses, swiftly side stepping his immense frame to make a beeline for the elevator. She needed to get out of here. _Immediately._

“Hey, not so fast!” 

Making a break for the elevation platform, she leapt through the garage exit in a dash, and found herself in the centre of the Burns’ outdoor basketball pitch, the road that would serve as her escape route but a few steps away. She was almost in the clear.

Unfortunately, in the split second the Ausley Benton took to prepare herself to transform into her vehicular mode, she found her servo being enclosed around the fire truck’s much larger one, a solid, trapping handshake that stopped her right in her tracks. Seeking freedom from his clutch before it’d be too late, she shifted her body weight onto her outermost pede in hopes of yanking herself loose, only to realise that the move had been a badly thought out one as she found herself swiftly pulled towards the mech. He’d taken advantage of her offset footing. 

“Unhand me at once!”

“Gladly, but not until you stop fighting me! I’m not budging till you do.” He tightened his grip in affirmation. He wasn’t going to let up any time soon.

 _Bugger_.

Left with no other options she could foresee, Quickshadow acquiesced, albeit with fervent reluctance, and halted in her struggles. Beneath his iron grasp, Heatwave felt her cables release their defiant tension. But he didn’t let go just yet. Lifting his helm, his optics peeked out from underneath the brim of his fireman’s hat in a steely stare. Quick to catch on that he wasn’t quite finished yet, she indignantly tore her gaze away from his, her pride damaged at having been so easily apprehended. 

“I’ve stayed true to my end of the bargain, I think it’s time you did the same. Now let go of me this _instant_ ,” Quickshadow ordered, her view of the court’s concrete flooding her vision with a dull grey.  

“You’re not thinking straight.”

“Nonsense, I’m right as rain.”

He directed her a dubious look in reply. “‘Fraid you’re not fooling anyone with that.”

The red plated autobot lifted their joined servos to eye level as his counter argument.

“Look me in the optic and tell me you meant for this to happen.”

No rebuttal came.

“Exactly. You didn’t. You _wouldn’t_. At least, not someone with your instincts.”

He paused to finally free his appendage of the female bot’s and stepped back. She didn’t make a move to flee. Instead, a glare contorted itself onto her normally aloof, reserved countenance.

“I don’t know ‘bout you, but I think that _alone_ is indication enough that you aren’t yourself.”

Her barely maintained professionalism was splitting at its seams.

“I refuse to take this.”

At this point, the fire truck’s limited reserve of patience was more or less running on fumes.

“Quickshadow–” his use of her full name proved effective in drawing her attention, “–I’m trying to _help_ you here.”

“I don’t require any of your assistance–” Opulent sapphire clashed with flaming amber. “–In fact I never requested it, or anyone’s for that matter,” she retorted. “Certainly tells one how much _someone_ is begging for their ego to get a good stroking.”

A snarl couldn’t help but slip through Heatwave’s grit dentate at the petty jibe.

“You’re acting like a _hatchling_ ,”

He stepped closer towards the Austly Benton, who automatically stepped further back, uncomfortable with the proximity with which they were standing, gaze flickering hesitantly away. Regardless, the mech continued.

“What is your damage? There’s nothing wrong with being homesick. We _all_ miss Cybertron. We’re _all_ still hurting about what’s happened to our home, our kind; everyone we loved, cared for, or didn’t even know, all lost to–”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The femme abruptly shot an infuriated lour in the red plated autobot’s general direction, still unable to bring herself to look at him straight on. “You don’t know anything. You know _nothing_ , of what I have seen,” her voice wavered uncharacteristically, “the horrors I’ve faced and have been forced to commit with these servos… ” Her optics narrowed as she held out her arms, staring loathingly into her cold palms before wounding them into trembling fists.

“I especially do not care for your empty platitudes. I’ve received enough to last me an eon.”

Her energy field crackled with unspoken grief, volatile and raw in its essence. There was no point in lying about it; It was unnerving, so much so that it very nearly made Heatwave’s own spark shake.

“You have no idea how fortunate you are to have been given the choice...  to have had no part of such… senseless destruction. You have no regrets.”

Something inside him snapped at her last, carelessly tossed words.

“Don’t. You. _Dare_.”

The corners of his lip components curved downwards forebodingly as he regarded Quickshadow with a heated scowl. He pointed an accusing digit towards her, helm tilted in disdain at her barefaced inability to see past her own troubles. _The nerve._  

“I’d hardly call failing to rescue innocent lives something to feel even _remotely_ fortunate about.”

He lowered his arm, and leaned closer to the femme in a wordless challenge for her to argue otherwise. This time she didn’t back away. With her composure finally regained, she met him head on.

His servos clenched, he then pounded one angrily against his chest plate. “We’re rescue bots. It’s our duty to serve and protect those that can’t defend themselves. Saving lives is in our _code_.” His shoulders heaved as an ardent growl resounded from his vocal processors. 

“Yet we couldn’t even save one, let alone any of our own kind, and when we were needed most... All of them… all those innocents. Almost an entire race, civilisation… Just. Gone.“

He could feel his voice on the verge of cracking, and so endeavoured to hide this behind a brief rev of his engines, swiping his digits over his optics in order to quell the burning sensation of solvent threatening to spill.

“We failed – no – _I_ failed, my mission. And to this day, it still haunts me. It still… festers like some primus forsaken virus that just won’t leave.” His chin dipped low, he rumbled his last words somberly, thick with regret as his arms fell weakly at his sides, all feeling from them lost. “I swore to never let that happen again. Not to Griffin Rock, not to anyone, and _not_ to my family. Not on my watch.”

A strained beat passed as he eyed the femme standing before him, a dour expression glazed over his faceplates while hers remained unreadable. Frustratingly unreadable. 

“So, don’t even think for a nanoclick, that _you_ of all bots, can lecture me about regrets. _Ever_.”


	2. Reification

The genuine severity with which he spoke had taken Quickshadow by surprise.

It was jarring, and would have been frightening, if only his words were not as unfounded as she would have liked to believe.

This mech had been crashing and faltering in the flames of his inner demons, just as she had been with her own for the last millennia. They had been treading similar paths. And while she was usually not one to complain, a small part of her couldn’t help but feel that… it was all just, _so_ unfair. To her, to him, and everyone else misfortunate enough to have been caught up in the mess their kind had admittedly gotten themselves into.

A mess that costed millions of Cybertronian sparks, and their own home.

The very thought made her insides turn. 

“What I said was… uncalled for. I apologise.”

The femme turned about swiftly, no longer able to stand the tension that wavered between her and the firetruck, who had already fallen victim to his personal melting pot of memories. She too, was beginning to experience the same, a flood of her own memories shifting through her processor. They were taking a heavy toll on her hold over her emotions.

With her grip starting to slip, she knew she needed to finish this as quick as she could, and so transformed into her vehicle mode without another word, preparing to take off and end things right there and then. 

“Wait!”

Quickshadow immediately ceased the powerful rev of her engines, though a sigh nonetheless, escaped her as she swivelled her tires about to face the red rescue bot, now freed from his stupor.

“What?”

The tinge of urgency in her voice didn’t go unnoticed by Heatwave, his optic brows knitting themselves together in a tightly held frown. 

“This isn’t over, y’know.”

His words seemed to hold enough ground to get the Ausley Benton to stay parked in place, rather than go running off– or perhaps, driving off would be a more appropriate word– like she did the first time.

He paused for a moment, contemplating his next move. If he was going to get anything out of her, he really needed to watch his wording. Venting a tired sigh through his fans, he brought his servos behind his neck, head tilting back slightly in thought.

_This femme’s more trouble than she’s worth…_

His elongated silence prompted a rather non committal remark from the female Cybertronian, accompanied by a huff. 

“Don’t tell me you’re still worried about me now. Honestly, I’m perfectly capable of making rational decisions and taking care of myself. I do not require you acting as my personal guard.” 

It honestly shouldn’t have come as any surprise to him that Quickshadow was as quick to deliver a witty remark, as she was swerving from topics she did not wish to discuss. The word ‘quick’ practically made up half of her name (or was it her name? He still wasn’t too sure).

It was only natural that her broad skill set included an almost virtuosic ability to manipulate people’s thoughts and statements in her favour, knowing when to mince and not mince her words. She was an individual well versed in communication and all forms of verbal expression.

Very unlike that of himself.

The fire bot was not one to convey his thoughts and opinions through speech. He was always one to rely on his actions to do the talking for him, a philosophy he stuck by closely all his lifespan. However, it was because of his adamancy to remain rooted to his personally held beliefs, that eventually proved to be his downfall upon arriving on Earth.

Back on Cybertron, before the War, before the strife and conflict… he was just one of the many firebots deployed into the field, with only one sole purpose: to save lives. That was it. His sole programming. He had no other plans to deviate away from what he had been sparked to do. Be a rescue bot.

But after finding himself suddenly thrust into a new world, a new way of life, a new reality… he had since been forced to change his way of thinking. He had to relearn and adapt to the position Primus had so suddenly decided to put him in; to learn the ways of humans and earn their trust in return.

It was no secret to anyone that that had been especially difficult for the mech. And while he had come a long way since then, he still found himself incapable of properly expressing himself to most, even to his own team… his own family. 

He continued to eye Quickshadow, a conflicting look unknowingly distorting his features. She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

“Are you quite finished?”

“I’m coming with you.”

His abrupt response managed to catch the normally composed femme off guard.

She nearly stuttered in her cautious response that followed.

“... I beg your pardon?”

The red plated autobot’s reply failed to present itself in the form of words, rather, he simply transformed into his vehicle mode with a determined rumble resonating from his chest.

“You could use the company.”

Quickshadow’s engine roared immediately in protest. It bordered on juvenile. Had Heatwave been in robot form, he would have rolled his optics at her playing martyr.

Or maybe recalcitrant youngling would have been a more fitting description.

“Alright, Ms. Grouchy, enough with the theatrics–”

“ _Excuse me–”_

“–Where’re we headed?”

A very uncharacteristic noise, akin to a growl, slipped past the Ausley Benton’s lip components, aggravated at his sheer obstinance. However, she grudgingly arrived at the conclusion that having yet another argument with him would accomplish nothing. She resisted a long suffering sigh.

_Well played._

While it _was_ rare, she knew when she was beat.

“The beach,” eventually replied the femme, driving herself onto the road that would lead them to the town’s coastline. The firetruck automatically followed at a comfortable distance behind her.

“I take it that won’t be much of a problem, will it?”

Her companion gave a reluctant groan, though contrarily, he showed no signs of wanting to turn back. After a pregnant pause, he quickly muttered his answer.

“I’m not too fond of the ocean.”

Quickshadow hummed, amusement lining the edges of her voice. “Hydrophobic, are we?”

He scoffed disbelievingly.

“You kidding? I have a fire boat as one of my alt-modes. ‘Course I’m not. I’m just not exactly what you would call a huge fan of… salt water. Chafes my chassis.”

“A fan? I wasn’t aware you had the ability to transform into a household appliance.”

“... Funny.”

“I endeavour to be.”

Heatwave vented for what felt like the millionth time that solar cycle.

* * *

 

The firetruck had never taken himself as an individual with any particular sense of aesthetic or style, deciding long ago that fretting over these sorts of things was a waste of his time; a concept that had been drilled into his hard drive ever since his early cadet days, where sensibility was favoured over all else, as well as the simple things in life. The bare necessities.

He had always thought of himself as practical, pragmatic, with no time for fuss or nonsense when it came to carrying out his duties, and he prided himself on that; his work ethic.

And yet, when his optics finally laid themselves across the sandy shores of Griffin Rock’s bay area, he begrudgingly admitted to himself that the sight was honestly… quite astonishing.

The coast looked different somehow, managing to transform into something else entirely. There were no words to properly describe it.

Still and quiet, with no impending danger of ships crashing against the rocks, or crazy metal sharks on the loose. The waters were calm and steady, lapping gently against the beach in a steady rhythm, frigid and laced with graceful whitecaps. The shore looked almost as if it had been bleached as grains of sand caught the moon’s luminescent light.

He had been here so many times, countless of times, for emergencies and the usual like.

That was probably why, until now, he’d never truly taken notice of how… nice, it was.

Quickshadow was first to convert to her bipedal mode when they arrived, wasting no time in seating herself silently by the waters, optics shuttered closed and legs crossed in front of her, venting deeply. 

Heatwave followed soon after, albeit he took more of his time than she did, slightly taken back at his surroundings.

The beach felt soft beneath his pedes. The sensation was strange, but not unwelcome.

Lowering himself wordlessly beside the femme, who’s optics remained fixated on the darkened horizon ahead, he attempted to interrupt the long silence that hung suspended between them. It was starting to suffocate him.

“Quicksha-”

“I wonder how many of us are left.”

The firebot’s jaw components tensed, snapping closed with an audible clunk, whatever speech he had lined up for her, cluttering into an incoherent mess in the recesses of his mind. He resolved instead to follow her gaze as she gestured up towards the night sky littered with stars, continuing.

“To think our population has dropped down from billions, to only a hundred or so of us. Perhaps even less.” The Ausley Benton lowered her servo, resting it lazily against her knee joint. “I doubt we’d even be able to fill half of this small portion of galaxy.” 

Her last sentence felt cold and was spoken in a harsh, joking manner, with just the slightest tinge of venom.

“Where did it all go so wrong?”

Heatwave rumbled, disconsolate.

_Was that honestly how she felt?_

“You’re wrong, Quickshadow,” he snapped in a sudden wave of what felt like determination before he could stop himself. His servo balled into a tight fist. “We’re recovering. Real slowly but… we _are_." 

Her gaze tore away from the black expanse above their heads, directing themselves at the mech to her left. “How can you be so sure of that?”

“I’m not.” 

The femme’s features contorted in obvious bewilderment at his contradictory answer. 

“That doesn’t make a spot of sense.”

He met her gaze collectedly. “It doesn’t have to.” 

Quickshadow’s optics squinted disbelievingly. “... Let me guess, it the Prime that told you that?”

The firetruck’s demeanour steeled slightly at her dismissiveness of their leader.

“ _Optimus_ told me that.”

“Of course he did,” she mumbled, now looking over to her right and out into the deep navy of the ocean’s waters.

Keeping his temper under control at her snideness, the firebot then proceeded to carefully inquire, “got a problem with it?”

The femme turned back to face him properly, unwavering in her stance on the matter.

Regardless, he continued, grabbing the rim of his fireman’s headpiece and tilting it slightly over his optics as he leaned backwards onto his other servo. “He’s our leader, the _last Prime_. What other choice does he have? It’s part of the job description to keep up morale. ‘Specially during times like these.” 

“That fails to answer my question.” 

The rescue bot gave a tired huff.

“What? Where it all went wrong?” His optics shutter closed, his HUD flickering dully in his vision, notifying him of the fatigue weighing down on his consciousness. “That really doesn’t matter anymore, we can’t keep focusing on the past.” He tiled his helmet back up, pausing for a moment as his optics remained shut, allowing his words to resonate with Quickshadow.

He leaned back further onto his servos.

“We’ve gotta look ahead and keep pushing on if we’re going to even think about fixing anything, let alone finally get out of this pile of slag we dragged ourselves under.” 

He cleared his vocal processors in a terse huff. 

“Trust me. Where you are right now? I’ve been there. Really I have, and for the longest time too, but… my team, the Burns’, Optimus… they eventually got me to wake up, open my optics and focus on what was really important, even if it did take a while for it to get through my thick processor, and understand what they meant.”

When Quickshadow said nothing in response, speechless, Heatwave cracked open a drowsy optic. “You’ll get it eventually.” 

Her lip components tilted sardonically. “My, my, Heatwave… Quite the sage, aren’t you? Ahead of your years and continuing to grow in leaps and bounds.” 

He snorted. “Don’t push it.”

Peals of laughter tumbled out of her, causing Heatwave’s optics to snap open, dumbstruck.

What he was hearing wasn’t her usual, proud laugh, the small smile that had so quickly spread on her faceplates blatantly telling him otherwise. What was even more jarring was that… a small part of him actually felt pleased, seeing this side of her– happier. His spark skipped a beat.

“What did I say?”

“Oh, nothing in particular,” she managed between chuckles, “simply that… I think I understand now, what Optimus had in mind when he appointed you leader of your rescue team.”

The mech sighed absentmindedly at her comment, “oh, really?”

She made a wide, sweeping motion with her arm, out towards the spread of celestial bodies suspended above them in the open sky.

“I can see it now. Heatwave _Prime_. Certainly has a nice ring to it,” she playfully announced, “no?”

Now it was the firebot’s turn to laugh, a deep chortle that resonated from his chest warmly, reverberating in the cool night air. “Right…” he drawled disbelievingly, “a Prime? Give me a break.”

“Well, I certainly don’t see the harm in it? If anything, why ever not?”

Heatwave's optic brows furrowed at her tone. She was no longer joking.

“I personally believe that you have the makings of a great leader of not just this team but… for all of us. The entirety of our faction.”

The mech sat up, his helm shaking to and fro as he quickly began to mutter a string of “no, no, no’s”, a servo raised and waving in a gesture of ardent dismissal.

“Look, you’ve got me pegged all wrong. I’m not a Prime. I’m a rescue bot, through and through.”

He turned to stare the femme dead in the optic. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“I beg to differ,” she retorted, her reply almost instant.

“Okay, I think we need to take a step back here.”

His back strut ramrod straight, Heatwave pointed a warning digit towards Quickshadow.

“I’m not fit to be a… a Prime. And that’s that.”

He then moved to pinch the bridge of his olfactory sensors, praying that the femme would hurry up and just drop the subject already. He wasn’t in the mood to get into another argument. Primus knows how long _that_ would last.

Naturally, Quickshadow’s sentiments matched that of the firebot’s as she settled instead, for a small smile, ending their conversation on the topic with an ambiguous:

“Whatever you say.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long you guys ;u; I've been incredibly busy with a whole bunch of other projects I'm working on. Anyway, for this chapter, I really wanted to focus on Heatwave's maturation and development over the course of the series, and tried to showcase that growth in his conversation with Quickshadow. 
> 
> Over these past four seasons, we've seen Heatwave really grow as a character, and he's become really rooted in his role as leader, as well as developed a genuine attachment to the Burns family and the rest of of his team. He's come to seriously trust in them, enough to feel comfortable with occasionally showing moments of weakness or just him being the big softie he is.
> 
> I also wanted to convey the irony of how, in spite of Quickshadow's extensive experience, she still has a lot to learn. 
> 
> So... yeah. That pretty much sums it up. I'm not too sure when my next update will be. Thank you so much for reading and bearing with me! Until next time, feel free to comment/leave kudos!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading, and please feel free to leave a review/kudos. I would really appreciate some constructive feedback and any thoughts you have on my writing. Until next time!


End file.
